


respite

by chirriko



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirriko/pseuds/chirriko
Summary: It was okay, even though it really wasn’t, even though Tony had spent forty minutes shaking violently and having consecutive panic attacks that grew in power each time, drawing potential energy from Tony’s exhaustion, from his fear, from his debilitating, raw vulnerability.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102
Collections: Tony Stark Flash Bingo





	respite

**Author's Note:**

> for my tony stark august flash bingo fill !
> 
> card 015 - adopted prompt "intimacy without sex"
> 
> i wrote this bc i had a real awful panic attack that completely drained me, and i just wanted to make sure tony was comforted through it, even tho i wasn't :(

“I’m fine, Steve!” Tony called out from the bathtub, the sole fact that he was sitting in an empty bathtub in his underwear at 3 in the morning probably not helping his case, “You can go back to bed.” He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, cleared his throat a couple of times in an attempt to vacuum away the sobs threatening to escape. 

“Hey, you don’t have to let me in if you don’t want to, but I’m not going back to bed,” Steve called back from behind the locked bathroom door — wait, fuck, he wasn’t sure if he locked the door, what if Steve just came in? He couldn’t let Steve see him like this, he would rather _die_ than let Steve see him like this, absolutely _not_ — no, it was okay, Steve wouldn’t just barge in, Steve respected his privacy, Steve respected _him._ God, what was there to respect, anyways? But, alas, his words were gentle, his tone even gentler. And albeit his own protests, Tony felt his muscles relaxing at Steve’s voice. Fuck, why couldn’t he just let Tony fall apart in peace? Stupid Steve. Stupid, wonderful, caring Steve. _Fucking Steve_. “I’m just gonna sit over here, alright? I had this sketch that I was working on, anyways.” 

“Fuck.” Tony spat under his breath, but who was he kidding anyway? Steve, with his supersoldier hearing, definitely picked up on that, considering that he was most likely leaning against the door right now, with no intention to leave Tony _alone._

Another wave of panic spilled down on him like a rainstorm on the Equator, in buckets of freezing cold water, so fast that he couldn’t quite assimilate what was happening, even as he began to hyperventilate, even as the sobs fled his throat. He heard the echo of his own — screams, was it? Weeps? Cries? He stuffed his head into the gap between his elbows and knees and felt wetness on his skin. Oh, he was crying. Of course he was, god, what a fucking mess. What a worthless, broken mess. 

“Steve–” He whimpered out in between sobs before he could tie his tongue into a knot and keep it from ever uttering another word again. 

“Yes, darling, I’m here, always here,” the voice from behind the door replied quickly, Tony barely recognizing it as _Steve’s_ voice. Steve, who was _here_. Here, with him, with his disgraceful, his useless self. Broken self, broken, broken, broken, broken, brok– “Can I come in, sweetheart? Can I please come in? I just want to hold you, I just want to make sure you’re safe.” 

_Safe_. Safe, safe, Tony wanted to be safe. He wanted to be safe from every word ricocheting itself from the walls of his brain, he wanted to be safe from the panic filling his lungs, from the sobs clogging up his trachea, he wanted to be safe from feeling broken, he wanted to be safe from _being broken_ , he wanted to be safe from _being._

“Please, Steve.” Everything was starting to swim, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the tears staining his corneas or if it was the lack of oxygen or if everything was turning to jelly around him. It was probably not the latter, but with every passing moment, he felt more and more detached from reality, more and more like he was floating in space, _falling in space_. God, he was falling, he was falling again. “Don’t want to, don’t want to–” He choked out with each sob, almost like every breath in his lungs was replaced with said phrase and he couldn’t stop reciting it, he couldn’t stop chanting it over and over and over and over and–

There was a loud cracking sound that made the jelly that Tony was sitting in — what? Why was he sitting in jelly? — stop shaking for a moment. He turned his head and the next thing he knew was somebody pulling back the shower curtain and then Steve was standing in front of him, his hand on Tony’s shoulder, his eyes painting the jelly that Tony was sitting in sky blue. 

“Hey, Tony, hi.” He spoke softly, warmth pooling at Tony’s shoulder where his hand laid, and Tony suddenly realized just how cold the rest of him was. It’s okay, at least his shoulder was warm. He didn’t deserve that warmth though, did he? No, no, of course he didn’t, he didn’t deserve any warmth. Another sob broke free and his head fell in between his shoulders, the muscles of his neck giving up on him, just as everyone else did. “Darling, hi, it’s Steve, it’s me.” Everyone else, but _not Steve, not Steve, not Steve._

“Steve,” He breathed out, forced himself to lift his head, tried to move his hand to touch Steve, but it flopped uselessly back down onto his knees. Too heavy, everything was too heavy, the world was too heavy, and god, why did he have to carry it? 

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s Steve. I’m right here. Hey, come here,” He felt Steve gently move his heavy, _oh-so-heavy_ arms out of the way, straighten his legs out and suddenly Tony was being honest to god cradled and god, _god_ that felt so safe. _So, so safe._ “Right here, I’ve got you, my love, I’ve got you right here.” He was vaguely aware of Steve lifting him onto his lap, breathing words that were probably so very kind, so very lovely (like everything about Steve was) into his ear, as the world slowly turned from jelly into a cream. “Can you focus on my movements and my words? Can you just focus on me right now, darling?” Steve said and Tony tried to nod shakily against Steve’s neck and oh, his neck was wet. Tony was crying into Steve’s neck, wasn’t he? But Steve said to focus on him right now, so it didn’t matter, he supposed. He felt one of Steve’s hands on his bare back, drawing patterns – pretty ones, probably. Everything Steve drew was pretty. Where was his other hand? Steve did have two hands, right? There was a soothing feeling on his scalp and oh, there was Steve’s other hand – smoothing out Tony’s hair, massaging his scalp. Good thing Steve had two hands, otherwise Tony’s hair wouldn’t be getting smoothed out and his scalp wouldn’t be getting massaged. 

Steve was pressing his lips against Tony’s temple, kissing “You’re safe, I’m here, I love you” into his skin in sotto voce over and over again. Steve’s chest was warm against his side and Tony was slowly becoming privy to Steve’s lack of a shirt. Why was Steve shirtless? Didn’t matter, probably. And, oh, Steve was speaking again. 

“Friday, fill the bath with 104-degree water, please.” Tony tried to make sense of what Steve was saying, but then Steve was speaking again, asking Tony something, maybe, “Do you want to keep your underwear on, darling? It’ll get wet in the bathwater.” 

“Bathwater?” Tony heard how small and groggy his voice was, how downright shattered he sounded, but Steve said to focus on him, so it was okay, probably. 

“Yeah, bathwater. I was thinking we should fill up the bath, since we’re already sitting in it.” Steve smiled softly against his cheek. Steve was smiling and Steve was speaking so tenderly and Steve was right there and he wanted to throw Tony a bath, and Tony was safe, so he felt his lips twitch involuntarily just the tiniest bit. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He whispered back, tucking his face deeper into Steve’s neck. 

“So, underwear on or off, dear?” 

“Off.” Steve pulled at the waistband of his briefs and, for a moment, he was being lifted out of Steve lap just enough for Steve to pull them down his hips and off his legs and then he was back in Steve’s arms, barely aware of the whimper he let out in the short second that he wasn’t. 

He was starting to feel the warm water pooling up under them, and Steve’s soft stomach pressing against his side was now wet, and Tony was almost positive that it wasn’t from his tears. 

Steve slowly backed away and leaned them against the bathtub wall, he turned Tony towards him, maneuvering one of Tony’s legs to the other side of his lap, so that Tony was straddling Steve, Steve’s large hands on his waist under the comforting warmth of the water and Steve’s lips whispering something about the sketch he was working on into his shoulder, stopping once a while to press a soft kiss wherever his lips reached. 

Soon, the water reached Tony’s chest and he distantly noticed how the flow of the water stopped, Friday probably turning it off. Artificial intelligence was quite nice, wasn’t it? Not as nice as Steve, though. 

“Not as nice as you either, darling.” Steve told him and oh, did Tony say all of that out loud? He didn’t realize, but oh well, Steve had chuckled and called him nice and pressed another kiss into his collarbone, so it was okay. 

It was okay, even though it really wasn’t, even though Tony had spent forty minutes shaking violently and having consecutive panic attacks that grew in power each time, drawing potential energy from Tony’s exhaustion, from his fear, from his debilitating, raw vulnerability. 

But it was okay. It would be. Because Steve was there, drawing what seemed to be the infinity sign on Tony’s shoulder blade and breathing softly against his skin and his vulnerability no longer felt like a raw, exposed wound. It felt like Steve blew on it, applied some Neosporin, put a heart-shaped bandaid over it, and kissed it softly. It felt cradled, loved, and safe. He was flushing red under the nearly burning touch of the water, the world was standing strong and steady, Steve’s chest was pressed against his, probably flushing alike, and he was safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! 
> 
> pls leave a comment letting me know what you thought, they truly make my day !
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, you can reblog it on [tumblr !](https://chirriko.tumblr.com/post/625822617343049729/respite-read-on-ao3-for-tonystarkbingo-im-fine)<3


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